


Alienation of Affection

by hou_dini



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 17:38:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4401158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hou_dini/pseuds/hou_dini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fernando leaves a life of hardship and complications behind to start over from scratch in a new city, where, against all odds, he finds a good job at a respected law firm and a nearly perfect boyfriend. Only his past is not so keen on leaving him alone and, when it comes knocking on his door, Fernando realizes he'll have a very difficult choice to make, one that will certainly end up in tears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Iceberg

**Author's Note:**

> \- I know jack-all about the law world. Everything you read here is based purely on a very thorough observation of six seasons of The Good Wife and two of Suits. Also, I'm not from the US, which means I know _even less_ than the average person. If you find anything that is just TOO absurd, please let me know. But be kind, yes? And keep it in mind that this is football RPF, it's really not meant to be accurate AT ALL. I did use the help of the greatest law firm in the world - Google  & Wikipedia - to research a bit about the lives of paralegals - if it's all wrong, blame the internet. But also pretend that it's ok in the name of fiction, if possible.
> 
> \- There is a warning on the header for this, but since people don't always pay attention to the warnings on the header: there will be a major character death in this story. If that's a no-no for you, please proceed at your own discretion. I'm not going to hint at which character it will be because it will spoil the – I want to say _fun_ but I don’t feel like that’s a word that should be associated with _character death_ , but you know what I mean. Hopefully it will be a sad moment but also an important one and that will make perfect sense within the story.
> 
> \- English is not my first language and this story hasn't been beta'ed. I apologize beforehand for any mistakes you might find. If you think there's anything too off-putting, please let me know. But I ask you to be kind, I'm constantly trying to improve but as a non-native speaker, sometimes it's hard to get all the mistakes that the spell-checker doesn't.
> 
> \- I hope you enjoy your read. :) Thank you for stopping by!

The Titanic sank because the ocean was too calm. 

That is completely absurd, right? How can some shit as huge as a boat the size of a small village going straight to the bottom of the ocean taking hundreds of people with it happen because navigation conditions were _perfect_? It sounds ridiculous. But when you think about it, it actually makes perfect sense. Life is like that every single day, only usually on smaller and less deadly scales.

Just consider: this absolute engineering gem, the proof that men could challenge God, sank because everything was looking the best anyone could've possibly hoped for. If they'd been in the middle of a storm, the captain would've likely been very annoyed, the passengers would all get moody and sea-sick from all the rocking and the voyage would've been less than remarkable, but the ship crew would've been able to see the waves crashing against the base of the iceberg from miles away. As it was, with the sea water so still it could reflect the night sky like a mirror, they didn't spot that gigantic piece of ice rock until it was too late to steer away from it. Men placed a bet against the forces of nature and lost, miserably - and quite ironically as well.

That teaches you two things: the first is that whichever major cosmic force rules over the universe has an incredibly dark sense of humor; the second is that you should always, _always_ , be prepared for the worst sort of news to arrive when you least expect. Be wary of waveless seas.

It's easy to remember that _after_ the ship has sank, though. Not so much before. Fernando reckons the captain didn't sit in his cabin with a glass of bourbon wondering what he had ever done in his life to deserve such a wonderful weather on the one trip that would write his name in history forever. But it's very likely that he would've asked God why he was being punished had he been caught in a bad storm. That's just the thing: nobody ever questions good luck; if things are doing well, it's probably because you deserve it. Or that's what everybody likes to think, anyway.

It figures, Fernando would later realize, that the worst thing to happen to him in a very long time would come in a day that starts on an extraordinarily good note. That is usually how bad things begin. Life has this very bipolar way of evening itself out - to every good occurrence, there's a bad counterpart, equal in magnitude and opposed in direction, like Newton's third law of fucked-upness or whatever. Just to keep you on your toes, as though there is a lesson to be learned at every corner, and it's your own job to stay vigilant at all times. If you don't, this is what life tells you: _'See what you get for becoming too comfortable? You should've seen it coming, douchebag'_.

Well, he didn't.

This is how it all starts:

It's a Wednesday and Fernando has forty six pages of a minutely revised contract, complete with comments and warnings in color-organized post-its, in his bag, ready to go. It took him nearly all night and he had less than three full hours of sleep before he had to be up again, but the satisfaction of a job well done is immeasurable. Besides, Fernando actually likes his job, so he doesn't mind being stuck with it at home, not too much, anyway.

Tired though he is, he still makes it to the office with just enough time up his sleeve to rush to the Starbucks around the corner and get a large cup of cappuccino - extra shot, no sugar. He's moderately happy and very self-satisfied, but he's only human and, as far as he knows, contentment still doesn't keep anyone's eyes fully open during long mornings. Fernando needs his caffeine to kick-start his days, or else it just moves on without him.

When he thinks of all the ways the morning could've started on a wrong foot, it's impossible not to be a little proud of his accomplishments. So far, that includes only finishing a contract on a tight schedule and still making it to work on time, but it's something already. He knows for a fact not all paralegals at the firm would've been capable of such feat. Not like anyone's going to give him a gold star for it, but - well, he can imagine himself one if he wants. Today he deserves it.

And to think what lies ahead of him on this glorious Wednesday is _so_ much more rewarding than an imaginary gold star...

He's calmly standing at the back of the elevator, sipping from his coffee and fully appreciating all the full thirty minutes before the contract needs to be on his boss' desk - which gives him a few extra minutes to relax and go through his post-its once more, just in case - when Sergio Ramos, fifth year associate and impeccable in his grey suit and black overcoat, gets in.

The moment he spots Fernando, his lips immediately break into a smile. Sergio Ramos just has one of those smiles. It's like he doesn't know how to do anything less than beam at everyone; it's toothy and bright and simply contagious. It moves all the right muscles on his face, crinkles the corner of his eyes, but it makes him look ten years younger. When he looks at you and grins, it's easy to believe you are truly the greatest thing that's happened to him all day. 

It's a flirtation tactic, of course; one that, Fernando imagines, probably comes in very handy in his line of business. Still, he deserves commendation for perfecting the technique to this level; it is highly effective. Even when Fernando's having a bad day, Sergio's smile is usually all it takes to improve his mood. 

Gracefully, Sergio makes way through the rest of the people, some of which mumble their protests as he walks by - truth be told, the elevator is already crowded and there's really no reason for him to be moving towards the back and causing all that stir. Except, of course, that the back is where Fernando is. Sergio doesn't stop until they're shoulder to shoulder, braced against the mirrored wall of the elevator.

"Fernando," he says, all deference, nodding his head.

"Mr. Ramos," Fernando responds, grinning from behind the hem of his cup. "Good morning."

"Is it?"

"Oh, yes. Definitely. Today is a good day," Fernando assures him. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Sergio smiles, still looking straight ahead. "Perhaps. It might get better." 

Fernando feels the slightest brush of fingers against the back of his hand, a touch that lasts considerably longer than necessary, a thumb grazing his knuckles just because no one can see it. And because no one does see, Fernando turns his hand and intertwines theirs fingers together, squeezing lightly. They share another smile, knowing and cheeky; a packed elevator and just the two of them in on their little secret, bending the rules without anyone else around suspecting that the fine gentlemen at the back are holding hands.

The idea of keeping a secret office affair isn't something that Fernando considers particularly enticing, not all the time, anyway. It can be exciting, the little things; private smiles that only the two of them understand, looks that are unspoken promises, lingering touches and that cold feeling of adrenalin at the pit of their stomachs when they decide to be just that little bit bolder and do something like hold hands right under everyone's noses. These things are nice, there's no denying it. They add a certain spice to the relationship, it surely never gets boring.

At the same time, however, there are several aspects about it that are a real bitch. Rules are still rules, especially if you work at a law firm. There mustn't ever be even the slightest cause for suspicion over anything more than friendship between them, and even that might raise eyebrows around the office. Hotshot lawyers don't usually mingle with inferior beings such as paralegals. They don't things such as have lunch together or sit down for a drink or two after work like most of the associates do. They exchange looks from afar that nobody gets but the two of them; they steal quick kisses in the bathroom when there's no one else around; they it's all down to professional affinity when Sergio keeps requesting Fernando to work on his cases; they leave at different times and on different cars and head to the same places. 

If you're going to be an outlaw, then at least make sure no one ever finds out. A year into their thing and they're yet to be discovered. The part where they are extremely careful while on office premises is boring; having to act 100% formally around each other all the time gets old pretty soon as well. But it is still better than the alternative.

Fernando must admit, though - their little moments of rebellion, when they push the limits just a bit and his heart goes racing like it did the first time Sergio kissed him? That's when everything feels worth it.

The door opens on the fifth floor and Arbeloa, from Merges and Acquisitions, walks in. He spots Sergio and moves to join them at the back. Fernando removes his hand and stuffs it in his pocket to preserve the warmness for a while longer. That is, unfortunately, all he'll get from Sergio until the last of today's business hours.

"Hey, Ramos," Arbeloa says, before adding, "Torres," with a nod, almost not noticing that he's there as well. Arbeloa is the stereotype of the asshole lawyer, snob to the last strand of hair on his head. One of the heads of the clan responsible for the perpetuation of the stupid caste system that separates attorneys and paralegals.

So Fernando's not good enough to share Arbeloa's table during lunch, but it's totally fine to occupy 12 hours of his day with a boring 200-pages long merger contract.

Fernando hates his guts.

"Mr. Arbeloa," he replies.

"How's it going, Álvaro?" Sergio asks.

"So far, so good. Are you heading to the meeting with the partners?"

"Yeah, in thirty minutes."

The door opens again, eighth floor. Five people walk out and Sergio takes a step to the side, closer to Arbeloa, further apart from Fernando, who sips from his coffee and pretends not to care.

"Do you know what is it about?" Arbeloa continues the conversation.

"No idea."

"I heard," Arbeloa starts, leaning in closer to speak conspiratorily, "they are laying some people off."

"Really?" Sergio asks, raising his eyebrows in mild surprise.

Arbeloa shrugs. "Tough times. Firms are shutting doors all around the city."

"Damn."

Three more walk out on the tenth floor, and then it's just five of them in there. Merges and Acquisitions is two floors before Fernando's and four before Sergio's. The other people are likely to get off before that, since Fernando has no idea who they are and all the floors after the 11th are Gerrard/Finnan's. There's a chance they might get some time alone yet. But with this meeting taking place at the partner's floor - 

"Are you worried?" Sergio ploughs on.

"I don't know. Maybe? We had this big case last month, made millions for the firm, but who knows? It's all about bankruptcy these days. Those bastards will never run out of a bloody job."

"Should _I_ be worried?"

The eleventh floor comes and the other two passengers step out, leaving just the three Gerrard, Finnan & Associates employees to their gossiping.

"I haven't heard names, but my guess is everyone should," Arbeloa says. "I know Stevie has a special appreciation for you guys at litigation, but - I'd make a good case for myself. Can't hurt to be prepared."

"Well, now I _am_ worried."

"Nah. I'm sure you'll be fine." Álvaro offers Sergio a grin that is as fake as it comes, quite clearly terrified of being fired. The door opens again on the twelfth floor, and it is - thank goodness - Arbeloa's stop. "Well, I'll see you at the meeting, then. Good luck. Torres," he adds, before stepping out.

"Should _I_ be worried?" Fernando asks. It's just the two of them now, and they have two more stops before he has to get off, but all that talk about layoffs has somehow shifted his focus back to work - mainly the possibility of not having one anymore.

"Are you kidding? They'll send every lawyer to the gutter before they touch the paralegals. Nobody wants to do the heavy work."

"Well, that's... comforting," Fernando says, frowning. It's not very flattering to hear something like that, but he figures it's probably true. Harvard graduated lawyers seem to have it written on their diplomas that they are granted a heavenly right to consider themselves above certain procedures. Not that Fernando cares much about it; the fact they don't want to do all the heavy lifting means there are positions available for people like him, with knowledge, but no formal education. It's hard work but it's a much better pay than most undergraduate people might get. 

And in any case, lawyers will be losing their jobs before the paralegals start to go. As long as it's not Sergio, fine by him.

Sergio laughs and leans forward to steal a kiss. Fernando places a hand on his chest to push him away, but doesn't really, just keeps his hand there. "Are you crazy? They're _laying people off_. Do you really want to give them a reason to start with you? Or _me_?"

"If I go down today, then I want to go down with no regrets."

"And that is...?"

"Not making out with you on the elevator, for one."

"That was hardly making out."

"Baby steps." Sergio winks and finally moves away, keeping an appropriate - however unfortunate - distance between the two of them. "Are we all set for tonight?"

"Yup," Fernando nods, sipping more of his coffee.

"Eight o'clock?"

"Magic hour."

"Should I wait for you at the garage or...?"

"No, I drove here today. And it's probably better if we meet there, anyway."

"Live a little, Fernando," Sergio says, turning to him with a smirk. "Life is too short."

"Yes, and so are the vacancies at Chicago's law firms. This is me," Fernando announces as the door slides open on the fourteenth floor. "Try not to make out with anyone in public today, ok? Wouldn't want you to get fired before our date."

Sergio laughs again, nodding as the door begins to close. "I'll see what I can do."

On time, work done, coffee in hands and a cheeky trip with Sergio on the elevator, all before eight am. It can't really get much better than that, as far as early working hours go. He thinks the only way things might derail is if his boyfriend ends up fired sometime before the clock strikes six this afternoon. 

And that's Fernando's waveless sea right there.

x-x-x

The thing about dates with Sergio is that it gets his heart pumping every time. They've been at it for over a year, but such a large portion of their days are spent pretending not to care and acting as though they're not _dying_ for a kiss that whenever they do get the chance to be together, it's like the first date all over again. Fernando feels excited and anxious in exact the same way he did when Sergio finally pulled him aside and asked him out after months of ill-concealed looks and innocent flirtation.

The other thing about dates with Sergio is that it always pays off. If it didn't, they probably wouldn't be together anymore. Or they wouldn't be serious about it, anyway. There's nothing _romantic_ about what they do; it's really all necessity. Keeping a relationship like that is not easy. It involves a lot of bottling up feelings and comments and instincts, constant self-policing and a growing sense of paranoia. But it's not like they have much of a choice; they knew what they were getting themselves into right from the start. 

The plus part is, because of all that, date-nights tend to be twice as thrilling and they're always very much determined to make every minute count. Basically, it translates into The Best Sex Ever, over and over again. They do it like there will be no tomorrow, which - you never know, it might just turn out to be true, the way things are. 

So it is a pain in the ass, the secret affair thing, but it would unjust to say it doesn't have its perks.

With the amount of work they had this week, today is actually the first time in five days they'll be out together. They shared a kiss once in the garage, when they happened to be leaving the office at the same time - very rare occurrence, totally by accident - but it hardly counts. Fernando offered to skip dinner and go straight to the main course, but, in spite of basically what everything about him - from the way he talks to how he styles his hair - suggests, Sergio's actually an old-fashioned at heart who enjoys the significance of romantic dinners. That's almost part of the foreplay for him. 

Unnecessary? Sure. Fernando doesn't pine for romance, but he does crave physical contact very, very much. It is cute, though, and also flattering that someone cares this much about turning their few hours of freedom into memorable events beyond the bedroom, so Fernando doesn't really mind indulging his boyfriend. Sergio's as good a company to have during dinner as he is in bed, which is saying a lot. 

Fernando gets home at 7.30pm - not _nearly_ enough time to have a proper shower, get ready and still be at the restaurant by 8, but he couldn't exactly turn down a request from Finnan, who showed up ten minutes before he was due leaving and asked for "a favor" - which is not at all _a favor_ , considering he basically owns the firm. Fernando wanted to tell him, very politely, that he had an important commitment and ask if he could maybe arrive earlier the next day to get the job done, but Arbeloa's voice kept ringing in his head about the goddamn layoffs and so he refrained from doing so. If that's really the case and the firm is going through budget control, he wouldn't want to give one of the name partners a reason to have _Torres_ moved to the top of the spare list. As soon as he steps out of his car, he texts Sergio to let him know that he might be running late, just in case. 

When Fernando sticks his key in the lock, though, it becomes very clear that 'late' might turn out to be more than just twenty minutes. 

His door is unlocked.

Fernando freezes for a second, trying to remember if he'd forgotten to lock it in the morning. It is not something common; in fact, Fernando can't remember one single time when he has ever not locked his door. He doesn't live in an unsafe neighborhood, as far as he knows, but this is Chicago, after all. Plus, past experiences from New York made him sufficiently paranoid. 

This particular morning, however, he was in a bit of a hurry and running on very strong sleep deprivation, so - maybe? 

That's when Fernando hears the sound of the television.

His heart immediately speeds up inside his chest. _Oh my god oh my god oh my god_ , he starts repeating manically in his head. For a second there, Fernando just stands straight, hand still on the doorknob, trying not to hyperventilate, unsure of what to do. It's obvious there is _someone_ in his apartment - a robber, a rapist, a runaway from an asylum. Someone _dangerous_ , because that's the only kind of people who break into strangers' apartments when they're not there.

Fernando considers running down the hall shouting to his neighbors, but he figures that might catch the attention of the offender and who knows what kind of weapon he (or she?) has got inside. With trembly hands, he fishes out his phone from his bag to call the cops, his fingers shaking so hard as he -

The television is on.

 _The television is on_.

Fernando stops, concentrates on sharpening his hearing to the muffled sounds coming from inside his apartment. What kind of criminal breaks into an empty apartment and sits down in front of the TV? Is he waiting for Fernando to get home? Is it a personal sort of crime? Is it a psychopath who _wants_ to do harm to the homeowner?

That doubt quiets down the complete riot inside of him for a second and allows him to think away from the panic. He cannot imagine one single unthreatening person who could've stopped by right now. His parents and siblings are all in New York and no one said anything about dropping by for a visit - and even if they had, they don't have a key, and he hardly thinks his own family would break into his flat. Fernando doesn't have extra keys hidden under the mat. A friend, maybe? But he doesn't really have close friends either. Not anyone who would dare to enter his place without an invitation. Sergio wouldn't do that. The only other person with a key to his flat is Mrs. Fitzpatrick from 5B, for emergencies. Could that be...

Making a decision he might come to regret, Fernando dials 911 on his phone and keeps his finger over the dial button. If he walks in and sees anyone but Mrs. Fitzpatrick, he'll hit the button and get the police on as he runs down the hall screaming. It's not a very smart plan, but it might frighten the offender. He'll still be pretty pissed off if it's Mrs. Fitzpatrick, though - he asked her to kindly keep a key because she's the building manager and you never know when you might need an extra, but it was never part of the deal that she was allowed to make herself comfortable. But he wouldn't want to call the cops on an old lady either. It would probably look worst on him than it would on her.

Taking about five deep breaths, Fernando shuts his eyes for a second, bracing himself for courage, and then barges in.

It's not Mrs. Fitzpatrick. It's Daniel Agger.

Daniel Agger, who he hasn't seen in over two years, and who, as far as Fernando knows, had no way of ever figuring out where to find him, is sitting on his couch, casually holding his remote control and watching his television. And as though there's absolutely nothing strange or just plain wrong about it, he opens a broad smile to Fernando and says, "Hey!".

It takes Fernando a couple of long seconds to recover before he's able to speak again. "What the fucking fuck?!" is what comes out, his voice at least an octave too high, something between shock and complete perplexity. It might be all that he'll be able to produce in the next hour at least, because, honestly, he cannot think of anything more appropriate. 

Fernando slams the door shut behind him and takes two steps closer to Daniel before he realizes that might not be a smart move. Daniel's not an unknown offender, but he has committed several crimes in his life and just the mere fact he's at his apartment right now is another one. Whatever's brought him here, it can't be a good thing. Daniel turns off the TV and stands up, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and rubbing his hands on the front of his jeans like he's unsure whether to give Fernando a hug or what. It's a good thing he doesn't, because Fernando will scream the fuck out of his lungs if he dares to move another inch. 

"What the -" Fernando starts, stops, shakes his head like this is all too crazy for him to process. His heart is still beating like a helicopter about to take off, the fact there's a familiar face inside his apartment not doing much to calm him down. It might actually be making everything worse. It's hard to figure out what to say first. "Why did you break into my apartment?" he finally asks.

"Technically, I didn't," Daniel explains, calmly, and attempts to approach. Fernando raises his hands defensively and takes a step backwards. "Chill," Daniel says, raising his palms up in the air. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not armed or anything."

Fernando holds his phone tighter in his hands, 911 still ready to be called. "How did you get in?"

"I didn't actually _have_ to break in. Your lock? One of the easiest I've ever picked. Took me two seconds. You should get it changed."

"That _is_ breaking in," Fernando snaps back at him. "Why the fuck did you do that? How did you even know where to find me?"

Daniel shrugs. "I have my sources."

Fernando notices an old battered bag on the corner that looks like it has seen much better days. "Is that yours?" he asks, pointing towards it.

"Yes, it is."

"Daniel... What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?"

"You're the only person I know in Chicago."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I had to get away from New York for a while. And you're the only person I know anywhere else in this country."

"How did you even know I was in Chicago? I don't remember telling you where I was heading when I -"

"Fled?" Daniel interrupts him, a look of hurt briefly crossing his features. "Yeah. Like I said, I have my sources."

Fernando bites on the inside of his lower lip, trying to reign himself in after the initial shock. "Why are you here?" he asks again, less exasperated this time.

"I... Didn't know where else to go," Daniel shrugs. "I _had_ nowhere else to go."

"What..." Fernando begins to ask what he means by that, what exactly happened in New York that he had to get away from there, but changes his mind. He doesn't want to know. It doesn't make a difference. "You know what? I don't care. Whatever happened to you, this is not your place. Get the fuck out before I call the cops."

"Don't you want to know?" Daniel asks, a hopeful tone on his voice indicating he was expecting Fernando to be sympathetic to whatever sad story he might have come up with.

"No, I don't. Get out," Fernando repeats, stepping away from the door and gesticulating towards it with both his hands.

"Not even a little bit curious?"

" _No._ Get. Out."

"Come on..."

" _Daniel_ ," Fernando cuts him off, pulling the door open. "Out. Now."

Daniel stops, takes a deep a breath, and doesn't move a muscle from where he's standing. "I'm clean," he announces.

Fernando blinks at him, momentarily surprised by the revelation - the last time he saw Daniel, over two years ago, he could barely make it through half a day without injecting, snorting or smoking something. A walking time-bomb, he was, always one step away from that fatal dose. But as fast as it comes, the surprise wears off. Honestly, he doesn't even believe that. "I didn't ask," he states instead.

"I know, but I thought you'd like to know,"

"Good for you. I don't care. Now leave."

"I haven't taken anything in almost a year now," Daniel continues, totally ignoring his commands.

That bit hasn't changed, then. Daniel's always been stubborn like a mule. It's easier talking a rock into doing a backflip than convincing him of anything he doesn't initially agree with - which, incidentally, happens to be leaving the building. Preferably leaving Chicago altogether.

"That's it, I'm calling the cops," Fernando announces, fumbling with his phone.

"Fernando, just wait, ok?"

"I'm dialing." He starts pretending to be typing, even though the numbers are already there to begin with. He'd rather not have the police involved, but if that's the only option Daniel gives him, then so be it.

"Just let me talk for one second. Please," Daniel puts his hands together in a plea, sounding a lot more worried now than he did a second ago.

"I'm hitting the 9."

"Fernando -"

"I'm hitting the 1."

"Come on!"

"I'm hitting the other 1."

"Just listen to me!"

"I'm pressing dial."

Like a cat, Daniel launches forward and, before Fernando can even react, snatches the mobile away from him. Fernando's eyes widen in shock at the sheer audacity of that man and he's ready to start screaming to get the neighbors' attention and frighten Daniel off when he says, "I've been sworn! All right? There's a bounty on my head. Ricky doesn't like quitters."

"Who's a quitter?" Fernando asks, in spite of his better judgment.

"I am. I quit the drugs and... I quit the business as well. Now Ricky thinks I'm gonna go to the cops."

"Then don't."

"And he'll just have my word on it, won't he? Fernando, if I go back to New York, I'm dead," Daniel says, all seriousness now. There's something like despair behind his eyes, and just for a fraction of a second Fernando almost, just _almost_ , believes him. "You are the only person I know outside of New York," he continues when the Spaniard doesn't say anything. "I don't have anywhere else to go."

Fernando shakes his head and says, "No," as emphatically as he possibly can.

Daniel nearly grunts. "Come on..."

"No, Daniel. You can't dump that on me."

"Dump what?"

"I spent three years of my life going through hell with you. Not for one miserable second did you ever think of me. Now that I have finally left all that crap behind and built a life for myself you just show up and expect me to take responsibility for your crap all over again? No way. Fuck you. I won't."

Daniel stops, inhales the air in slowly before letting it out again through his mouth, as though preparing to take a plunge. "Look," he starts. "I know I did wrong. I was a douchebag and I created all sorts of trouble for you. But ever since you left... Nando, I've changed. I know it's hard to believe that, but it's true. It's like I finally started seeing again when you walked out. I realized I was ruining not only my life, but everyone else's around me as well. I'm trying to start over and build something new but I just can't do it in New York. If I get back there... It's over."

"New York is a very big city. It's a very big _state_. There are a million places you could go to hide. I'm sure you can find somewhere where Ricky won't find you."

"I can't risk it, Fernando. My family is still living there. I can't cross him."

"What makes you think he won't get your family anyway?"

"That's not how Ricky does things."

" _This_ isn't how _I_ do things," Fernando says, pointing an accusatory finger to Daniel. "It's your problem, not mine. You can't stay here."

"Fernando... Please. Help me."

 _Damn it_. Daniel's hopelessness is palpable. Fernando can see the dejection on the way his shoulder drop, the anguish in the green of his eyes. 

His eyes... Five eyes before, Fernando could see his entire future in Daniel's eyes. He fell so hard for the cheekiness and the life behind that man's eyes it was nearly impossible to walk away even when it became clear that it would be futile to try his hand at anything resembling a life next to Daniel. Fernando was broken and desperate and losing his mind - not to mention his job, his family and his friends - but still he stood by Daniel. He vowed to do everything in his power to save what he thought was the love of his life from his own demise. In the end, not all the love in the world was enough. 

It took every fiber of strength in Fernando's body to be able to leave everything he'd known his whole life behind in order to start over in a different city, where he had absolutely nothing and no one, but he made it. It was hard, at times seemingly a lost cause. But against all the odds in the universe, Fernando succeeded. He found a good job where he could put the knowledge he gathered from years of unfinished law school - thanks to Daniel again - to work, he found a place to call home. He found another person to love. And just when he thought he was finally safe, just when he dared to think he had freed himself completely from all the bounds that tied him to the life he had in New York, Daniel crawls out of a hole like a horseman of the apocalypse to remind him of that hell.

This is when Fernando looks up towards the sky - or the ceiling, in that case - and starts asking God what in his fucking name did he ever do to deserve that.

And the worst part is, he's actually starting to feel _bad_ for Daniel. Fernando should have zero sympathy for him; whatever it is that he's facing, it is no more than the product of his own doing. How many times did he try to free him from that life in the past, only to get painfully shut out? Nope. It's not his problem anymore.

"No," he finally replies, albeit with a lot less conviction than he meant to transpire.

Sadly, Daniel nods, looking away from him. "Right. You're right. Of course. I'm asking too much of you. I was a moron and I deserve to be treated this way. I'm sorry. For breakin - for picking you lock."

"You broke in."

"Right. Yeah. Thanks for not calling the police," he says, returning the cell phone to Fernando. "I'll just... I'll go."

Daniel collects his bag from the floor and throws it over his shoulder. Fernando thinks that's a really small bag for someone who was planning on abandoning everything. He was probably in a hurry when he left. Probably being chased... No. It doesn't matter. _It's not my business anymore,_ he reminds himself.

Daniel nods his head at him once more, probably looking for any sign of compassion, any tine little cracks on Fernando's fierce determination to explore, but there he finds nothing but impassiveness. Just when he's about to finally leave - and Fernando to finally breathe again - Daniel turns back to him and says, "Can I borrow some money? It's for the train ticket. I spent everything I had to get here."

Grunting, Fernando rolls his eyes at him but fishes his wallet out of his pocket anyway. He takes everything he has in there and hands it over to Daniel. It can't be much more than 60 bucks, though. "Just take it."

"Thank you," the other man replies, with a half-smile. "I promise I will -"

"Don't," Fernando stops him, waving a hand in front of his face. The last thing he needs is Daniel using the money as an excuse to come back. Like he ever cared about paying back all the times Fernando landed him money in the past - and it was a hell of a lot more than 60 fucking dollars. "Just go."

"Sure." Daniel folds the money haphazardly and puts it in his pocket. Fernando considers mentioning that he might drop it if he carries it that way, but says nothing instead. If he loses it, that's also his problem. "It was nice seeing you again, Nando. I'm happy that you're doing so well. Really, I'm... Happy for you. You look great." He tries to smile again, but lets it slip again when he realizes the sentiment is not being reciprocated. "Goodbye, then."

With an awkward wave, he finally leaves, walking towards the elevator. Fernando doesn't even wait for him to disappear before shutting the door and letting out a sharp gust of air. His hands are shaking so hard it's a mystery how he managed to keep his poise and remain so steadfast. Jesus Christ. 

He hadn't even thought about Daniel in... Really, in longer than he cares to remember. His ex-boyfriend had become nothing but a very distant memory, almost like something that had happened to someone else, or in a different life. But it seems you can never really get away from your mistakes. No matter how fast you run or how well you hide - it always, invariably, catches up. He's getting punished all over again for falling in love with the wrong person and staying a firm believer of the stupid notion that he was the one who could change Daniel into a better person. That sort of thing doesn't happen in real life, he knows now. Crooks will remain crooks; there's no such thing as the power of love. The stronger the feeling is, the more it hurts. 

It's the right thing to do, send him out on his way. Daniel's an expert on conning people. He's tricked Fernando into his bullshit for years. He can outrun Ricky and find a place to hide. He was certainly not short on friends back then. There has to be someone willing to take him in and let him lay low for a while, until things cool off. And if not - well, then, that's his own problem to solve. He can take the 60 bucks and buy a train ticket to somewhere else. Philadelphia. Boston. Portland. To freaking Canada. There are a million places for him to start over. Why does it have to be Chicago? Why does it have to be _Fernando_?

But Daniel is stupid enough to actually go back to New York, to his own apartment. He came all the way here because he wanted someone he _knew_ ; didn't want to have to start over from scratch, like Fernando did. It's so like him - wanting everything the easy way, handed over to him on a tray. With tea. He'll go back to where he's wanted dead and he'll try to argue with Ricky and he'll end up -

Before he even realizes what he's doing, Fernando opens the door and steps out into the hallway. Daniel's counting the bills while he waits for the elevator.

"Oh, fucking God," Fernando swears under his breath. "Daniel, wait."

The Dane raises his head, eyebrows up to his hairline in confusion.

"Didn't you just say they'll kill you if you go back to New York?"

"... Yeah."

"And you're going back anyway?"

Daniel shrugs. "I don't have anywhere else to go."

"You're such an _asshole_ ," Fernando says, annoyed by his own softness.

Daniel frowns. "Ok. I believe you've made your point. That was a little unnecessary."

"You want me to feel _guilty_. You come in here with that sodden puppy face expecting me to take you in out of sheer _guilt_. Do you realize how low that is?"

"Look, Nando, I don't -"

"If you go back and you die, it'll be my fault. Because I'm the cold heartless bitch who didn't let you stay. I don't see you in two years and this is what you do to me when you show up."

"I..." Daniel stops, blinks. "Would you have liked me to show up sooner?"

" _No._ I would've liked you to _never_ show up. I left you for a reason."

"I know. And I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't make anything better."

"I know."

"Then stop apologizing."

"I'm... Ok."

Fernando shakes his head. "I can't be responsible for you," he says, more to himself than anyone else.

"I... Don't know what to say."

"This is not - I'm not saying you can - Don't read too much into this, all right? I'm not saying you can stay, I'm not saying I'll help you. I'll let you crash here for tonight and you can figure something out. You leave tomorrow." The moment he stops talking he's already regretting his words. The smile that spreads on Daniel's face is so big Fernando has to look away for a second. It reminds him of... Other times. And other things. Things he's not supposed to be remembering, because he's not meant to be sympathetic to Daniel's drama. 

"Really?!" Daniel says, clearly more excited than he should be, so he corrects himself, forcing a serious expression. "I mean... Thanks."

"Don't make me regret this."

"I won't."

"I'm not taking responsibility for your shit anymore," Fernando repeats for the millionth time, just to make it absolutely clear.

"Perfectly agreed."

"Just get back inside before I change my mind."

Not quite able to contain the small grin tugging on the sides of his lips, Daniel walks back to the apartment, stops in front of Fernando and says, "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. I'm too good for my own sake."

When Fernando shuts the door with Daniel on the wrong side of it, he just _knows_ there is no way this will end well. He needs to get Daniel out of his place and out of his life for good, and as fast and seamlessly as possible.

x-x-x

Fernando pours himself a glass of wine because unfortunately that's the strongest thing he has at the moment. He downs it almost all at once. The burning in his throat is not nearly enough to cool his nerves, though. He's going to need something a lot stronger than this to be able to sleep soundly with Daniel resting on his couch.

His phone starts buzzing in his pocket and, even before he fishes it out, Fernando is already making a face. He knows exactly who it is.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath. It's almost nine already. He completely forgot he was supposed to meet Sergio an hour before. _Damn it_... Daniel's been back in his life little over 60 minutes and he's already causing problems. "Hey," Fernando says, completely dejected, shutting his eyes and scrubbing a hand over his face.

"Running late?" Sergio asks, sounding very casual and not at all as angry as a person who's been left hanging at a restaurant for a whole hour should sound. Fernando can hear the cheerful conversations and cutlery clinking against porcelain in the background. "I've ordered us some drinks. Yours is getting warm." He imagines Sergio, looking perfectly gorgeous, sitting by himself in front of an untouched drink, surrounded by people wooing their partners and exchanging gentle, discreet touches and soft words, brightening up every time someone pushes the door open only to dim down again when he realizes it's still not his date...

 _Shit, shit, shit_.

"I'm sorry, have you stopped drinking?" Sergio asks, and Fernando realizes he must've cursed out-loud.

"No, it's... Sergio, I can't make it tonight," he explains, around a disheartened sigh.

"Oh," Sergio replies, clearly confused.

"I'm so, so sorry..."

"What happened?"

 _A hole opened right under my feet and sucked me straight into hell,_ he considers saying, but ends up going for, "Something came up. It was... A family emergency," instead.

"Is everything all right?" The concern in Sergio's voice is so genuine Fernando wants to cry. If only he knew the whole truth...

"Yeah, just... My... Cousin," he says. It's the first thing to come to his mind. For some reason Fernando doesn't think it's a good idea to be honest about Daniel's origin with Sergio. Besides, he won't be staying for more than one night, so it really doesn't make sense to worry him with tales of an ex-boyfriend who shows up out of nowhere asking for help. It probably wouldn't sit very well with him knowing that Fernando's canceling their date because of an old flame. "He showed up all of a sudden, I wasn't expecting it. I think he's done something stupid. I just... I need to keep an eye on him. Tonight."

Sergio is quiet for a second too long. "Ok," he finally says. "Are you sure everything's ok?"

"Yeah. It's fine. It's just... A one night thing."

"Ok, then."

"Sergio, I am so, _so_ sorry to be bailing on you."

"That's all right, Nando. I understand. Family comes first."

Fernando bites on his lower lip and suppresses a hitch. "Please, don't hate me."

On the other end of the line, Sergio seems to chuckle, which appeases Fernando's embarrassment for the moment. "I won't," he says.

"Can we reschedule?"

"I expect nothing less."

"Thank you."

"No need to thank me, Nando. Call me if you need anything, ok?"

"I will."

"See you tomorrow."

As soon as Sergio ends the call, Fernando lets out a breath that sounds more like a sob. He was supposed to be sitting across from this ridiculously handsome man at a very fancy restaurant right now, having a really nice dinner and making mental lists of all the places on his boyfriend's body he'd like to touch with his tongue, not drinking cheap wine at home in a flimsy attempt of substituting worry for torpor because of bloody Daniel. Fernando spent his entire day at work fantasizing over how promising his night would be... It's so unfair that he should end it up alone and frustrated. 

"Who's Sergio?" comes a voice from behind reminding him that he's not _actually_ alone. He's something much worse.

Startled, Fernando turns around to find Daniel standing by the kitchen door. "What the fuck?" he snaps. "Were you eavesdropping?"

"I just wanted a glass of water."

"And to listen to my private conversation, I bet. What did I say about not making me regret the decision to let you stay?"

"I'm sorry!" Daniel says, spreading his arms out on an exasperated gesture. "I didn't mean to listen, I was just - I heard you were on the phone and I decided to wait before - I wasn't _eavesdropping_ , I was - I'm sorry," he stops babbling after running out of excuses. Fernando just shakes his head at him, hopelessly. "Was that your boyfriend?" the other man adds after a while.

"That is none of your business," he replies, curtly, filling his glass again.

"I'm sorry I ruined your date."

Fernando straightens his eyes menacingly at him. "Shut up."

"You can still go, if you want to."

"Of course I can. This is my apartment, I can do whatever the hell I want. I can stay, or I can go. And I can also kick you out."

Daniel purses his lips and nods. "That is... Very true."

Fernando takes the half-empty bottle of wine and his glass and stops right in front of Daniel, lifting his index finger right up to his nose. "You have _one_ night. I expect you to have a plan by morning. I'm up early 'cause I have to work. You leave with me and you don't come back. Understood?"

Daniel nods his head once more, the corners of his lips tugging upwards in a half-smile. "Yes, sir."

"Be quiet."

Right before he slams his bedroom door shut behind him, Fernando hears Daniel wishing him a good night, or something like that. He doesn't pay attention and doesn't say it back.

There's nothing good about this night. And it seems like it will be a very long one.


	2. Between the devil and the deep sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, things are moving slowly around here... Sorry everyone! As always, I ask you to forgive me for all the mistake you will surely find. Fic hasn't been beta'ed and English is not my first language! Feedback is still very much welcome! Hope you enjoy this. :)

Understandably, Fernando's late for work the morning following Daniel's appearance. 

Fernando wasn't sure whether to be relieved or concerned. Part of him was hoping that this whole thing would've somehow turned out to be a bad dream, or that Daniel had suddenly decides to slip out. In fact, the situation was making Fernando so restless that if Daniel had decided to pick up a few of his belongings on the way out, he wouldn't be all that upset. Not like he had anything of much value, anyway. Nothing that he wouldn't give away happily to see Daniel gone from his life again.

That sort of thought did bring a sour taste to his mouth, if he's completely honest. It seems rather selfish of him, not to mention plain mean, to be crossing his fingers and hoping that Daniel will vanish from his sight as fast as he'd appeared. He is a person in need, after all, however responsible for his own circumstances he might be. Fernando is not proud of the way he feels, but can anyone really blame him? _Skeptical_ is the least anyone in his place would be.

When he looks at Daniel's sleeping form, so calm and relaxed, he doesn't look all that threatening. Fernando had been so shocked before that he had barely taken a second to really _look_ at the man before him, asking for help. All he could see was a mishmash of bad memories and hard times coming together in the form of a tattooed, freckled human being. It caused Fernando's guts to twist. 

Now, though... Fernando can kind of see the person behind all that. Daniel was skin and bones last time Fernando saw him. Used to wander around with his glazed-over eyes and patched up arms, barely disguising the needle marks and grotesque wounds. Towards the end, spending a night with Daniel was a rare occurrence. He was always out, running _errands_ , and then would pass out from exhaustion during the day. Those were actually Fernando favorite times; if Daniel was asleep at home, that meant he wasn't dying somewhere. 

He looked just as exhausted as he slept on Fernando's couch now, years later, only in a different way. Daniel certainly seems tired, but not sick, not half-dead. Fernando couldn't help but notice how... healthy he looks. His biceps stretching the fabric of his t-shirt, broad muscles filling his clothes entirely. Both his arms are completely inked, lines disappearing into his clothes, leaving Fernando wondering how much of his skin he had covered by now.

Daniel talked Fernando into getting all of his tattoos. Such an enthusiast. Fernando could barely look at his own naked form for a while there. It reminded him too much of all the things he was trying to forget. It changed after Sergio, though. Sergio's tattoos freed him from the immediate association.

It's obvious that there really were changes in Daniel's life since he left. He's different, and not just physically. In fact, Fernando noticed Daniel now resembles not the person he walked away from, but the one he met all those years before, with the easy smile and the gentle eyes and sense of humor. The one Fernando had fallen in love with.

And it was when these thoughts started to make way into his head that he decided he'd looked enough, went back to his room, locked the door and forced himself back to sleep.

He felt bad enough for Daniel that he decided not to wake him up before leaving for work, though. The man certainly looked like he needed those hours of rest. Or that's what Fernando chose to believe, anyway. There's a very blurry line there between compassion and how much he didn't want to deal with Daniel so early in the morning, but the fact is that head a perfect excuse - being late - and so he chose to go with it.

The first two hours of his day are sheer torture. He'd made do sit through a meeting where he doesn't understand a single word of what is being said around him, sometimes even _to_ him; just nods and mumbles something and tries to look smart. He'll have to ask his colleagues later, once he manages to get some caffeine in his veins, enough to keep him awake.

Once everyone starts leaving, Fernando pretends to be writing something down to have a second alone. He takes a deep breath, tries to get his shit together. Just keeping his eyes open is proving to be an Olympics-level task, he's not sure he'll be able to function at all today. It's a nightmare.

Fernando expects to be greeted by a brand new pile of colorful post-its and requests when he finally makes his way back to his desk, but what he finds is Sergio, with a cup of coffee in hand. Extra-large.

"Oh, God," Fernando moans, shutting the glass door so that they can at least talk freely. "You are a saint," he half-speaks, half-sobs, taking the coffee from Sergio's hands and dropping down in his chair.

Sergio smiles at him, that beautiful, radiant, 1000-watt smile. It immediately connects to something inside of Fernando's chest, something that pulls on his grumpy lips and forces him to smile back in spite of himself.

"You looked like you needed that," his boyfriend says, nodding towards the cup, "Desperately."

"I do. I really, really do." He takes the first sip of his drink - cappuccino, extra shot, no sugar, just the way he likes it. _I'm gonna marry this man_ is one of the things casually crossing his mind at the moment.

"Rough night?"

Fernando shrugs, reluctantly. "Something like that."

"How's your cousin?"

"How's my -" he stops, gives the question a thought. It takes him a second to remember Daniel's supposed to be family, as far as Sergio's aware. "Oh. My _cousin_. Uhm. Yeah. He's... In a bit of trouble. I think."

"What kind of trouble?"

Fernando almost grunts at Sergio's interest - which, coming to think of it, is perfectly normal. It's actually _nice_ of him to be asking. Most boyfriends would be either pissed off and pretending nothing happened just to keep as distant as possible from any kind of family drama. Except Daniel's situation is much more complicated than that. Right now Fernando could use with a little bit of bad boyfriend-ism from Sergio, for his own sake. 

"Stupid trouble," he replies, not willing to go elaborate.

"Is he staying with you?"

He should probably state a straight-out _No_. Definitive. Relentless. Unwavering. He doesn't, though. Instead of giving the answer he should, the answer he's _so_ certain of, Fernando starts thinking. "I don't know," he says. "Probably not. Just one night. And today. Maybe."

_Maybe_. That tiny little word causes a flood of fear and uneasiness to wash over him. It's been less than one day since Daniel showed up and he's already faltering. Nothing but danger lies in his hesitation. He _cannot_ allow Daniel to overstay his welcome. Here's hoping the extra hours he got have led to some productivity and that he has come up with a plan by the time Fernando gets home tonight.

"You know..." Sergio starts, a tiny smirk dancing on the corner of his lips. "Drinks last night were very good."

He means it in a lighthearted way, Fernando's sure. It still makes him feel terrible. "I'm so sorry."

"What are the chances you'll be free tonight?"

"Slim to none, I'd say. With my cousin and all..." he trails off and leaves it at that, already dreading the moment when he'll have to sit down with Daniel to resolve his situation.

"That's a shame," Sergio sighs. "Let me know when we can reschedule, then."

"I will."

"Enjoy your coffee." With a wink, he leaves Fernando's office and disappears down the hallway, probably heading towards the elevator so that he can go up to his own floor with all the other cool kids who aren't worn out paralegals.

This is one of those times when Fernando hates it that their affair has to be kept a secret - and also that all these goddamn walls are made of glass. He knows that everything would feel a lot better if he could only give Sergio a kiss and revel in the warmth of his embrace for two minutes. His day would immediately take on a U-turn for the best. But they mustn't be seen together, and therefore he cannot get that much needed gesture of affection from his boyfriend, who instead simply walked out of his office like they were there discussing paperclip stashes or the quality of the food in the vending machine down the hall.

Thank God for the small glory of coffee, he thinks as he shuts his eyes and sips from his paper cup.

 

x-x-x-x

 

It's way past seven by the time he finally turns off the computer and calls it a day. The truth is that he could've done that at least an hour before, there were no last minute requests today, no name partner asking for a _favor_. The stalling-as-much-as-possible was all on him. Fernando only decided it was time to head home when his stomach started a rebellion. Well, maybe not _directly_ home then; he might just make a pit-stop at a diner somewhere and take another, say... two hours before he's finally back at his apartment?

It's such an awful feeling when you have to start avoiding the comfort of your own home, isn't it? He remembers only too well what that felt like in New York, why he had to abandon everything and move to Illinois. It is not a coincidence that he feels exactly the same way now that Daniel has showed up in his life once more. That man carries discomfort with him wherever he goes like an infectious disease.

Fernando stops dead on his track before he makes it to the car, though. Just as he steps out of the elevator and takes the turn towards the back, where the less-relevant employees are made to park their cars, he finds Sergio. Waiting for him. With a smirk.

He frowns at his boyfriend, checks around to see whether they're alone out of sheer habit. "What are you doing here?" he asks, slowly approaching him.

"Waiting for you to validate my ticket," Sergio says. That only causes the creases on Fernando's brow to deepen further. It doesn't make any sense. Fernando knows he gets his tickets validated by the office as a fifth year associate. Sergio doesn't weaver before his obvious confusion, though. "It's the least I deserve after last night," he adds.

"I honestly don't know what you mean by that," Fernando admits. "I didn't have nearly as many cups of coffee as I should've today, you're gonna have to be clearer if you want me to understand."

Sergio chuckles. "Well, the way I see it, you can either validate my ticket, or..." He makes a pause. "Give me a kiss."

Fernando blinks at him, surprised. "Here?" He checks around yet again. At this hour almost everyone has already left, only a handful of cars still around, two of which are his and Sergio's.

"Why not? We're alone."

"But someone could walk in."

"Ok, then," Sergio says, and pats the side of Fernando's car. "Let's get in."

Fernando's mouth opens and closes several times before he can produce any sound. He's not really sure what to say. One side of him is bouncing with excitement; the other, more careful, is screaming that is not a good idea. What if Finnan or Gerrard walk out now? Both their cars are still parked in the garage.

"Sergio, do you think it's -"

"I was _really_ prepared for a make out session last night," Sergio says, fixing him with a determined look. "I could use a kiss right now."

Fernando can't quite help the smile that spreads across his lips just then. "Get inside," he announces, unlocking the car.

It's not going to solve any of his problems, but when they finally find a way to fit both of them in the back seat, only partially hidden from the passers-by, and Sergio smashes their lips together and his hands begin to roam all over Fernando's body, underneath his shirt, down to his trousers - well. Let's just say it's a lot easier to face the monster in the closet after a good dose of encouragement.

 

x-x-x-x

On a scale from one to Leonard DiCaprio expecting to win an Oscar, how delusional does it make him that he was actually hoping to get home to find a kind note from Daniel thanking Fernando for the hospitality and wishing him good luck on his new life instead of the man himself?

Fernando's not sure when exactly, on the route back to his apartment, he allowed himself to hold onto something as flimsy as faith (somewhere between getting jerked off by Sergio and feeling way too happy to believe anything could ruin his evening, perhaps), but he is disappointed nonetheless when he finds Daniel sitting in front of his TV later that night.

Life felt good again for about 15 minutes of bliss wherein he rejoiced in the afterglow with the warmth breath of his boyfriend against his neck and heavy limbs entangled with his own. It's all gone back to normal now, though. Reality is a much more ungrateful lover.

"Hey," Daniel says, offering him a smile as he sits up straight.

Fernando sighs, stops by the door to take on the scene before him - a ghost from his past, comfortably relaxed in his beautiful, beautiful new living room at though he was already at home - and then shuts the door, bracing himself for the conversation that will ensue. 

"You're still here," he points out with dismal.

"You said you were going to kick me out this morning," Daniel says.

"I know."

"Why didn't you?"

Fernando stops, gives it a thought as he takes off his coat and scarf and hangs it on the hooks by the door. "Call me Madre Teresa," he says. "You just looked like you needed that sleep."

Daniel chuckles. "Not gonna lie to you. I really did."

"Good." He takes off his jacket, loosens the knot on his tie and then finally joins Daniel, taking a seat on a chair. "I hope you had a really good night."

"I did," Daniel replies. "Thank you."

"What did you do all day?"

Daniel shrugs. "Nothing special. Just watched TV."

"Did you think?"

"Uhm... I could say so."

"About your situation," Fernando says, curtly. "What are you gonna do?"

"Oh. That." Daniel moves his eyes away from him, focusing back on the TV. It's so like him to avoid eye contact whenever the conversation offends his comfort zone. That is one thing that hasn't changed about him, apparently. "I have no idea."

"Well, that's fucking brilliant, Daniel. You had one job today and that was to come up with a fucking plan," Fernando scolds.

"You don't think I tried?" he replies, heat in his voice now, albeit contained. "And not just today either, I've been thinking about this for weeks. _Months_. I practically do nothing else. How do you think I ended up here? If I had a better idea, I would've used it, trust me. Maybe I'm just thick-headed, but I don't know where to go, and I don't even know what to do. I'm not good at anything. I have nowhere to crash for a while."

"Daniel -"

"I know what you're going to say," he cuts him off.

Fernando cocks him an eyebrow. "Do you?"

"I know what you're thinking right now."

"I doubt that."

"You think I deserve it." There's a clear measure of hurt in his tone now as he finally meets Fernando's eyes again. "That I was actively seeking for all of this mess when I joined the gang, that I should've known better what I was getting myself into. Well, I was young and broke and talentless when I joined them. Ricky was the only person who would trust me with anything. You don't turn a guy like Ricky down, especially when you haven't got a fucking penny under your name. It was a stupid decision, but I was a stupid kid, and that's what stupid kids do. I didn't get a contract to read and sign, things just... Happened. And then they escalated pretty fast. I certainly didn't stop to think I was committing my entire life to that shit, and I didn't realize that until it was too late."

And that - It just knocks the air out of Fernando's lungs for a moment, like a punch to the stomach. It sends all of his harsh words and decisiveness flying out the window, sends him straight into a silence that is way too heavy with implications. He has always thought of himself as a good person, one who tries to do the right thing. What does it mean about him that he's denying shelter to someone in such a clear state of desperation? 

He wants to say, _You're right. You screwed up and you turned away from all the chances you were offered to leave that life_ , and he wants to say, _Being young is no excuse for being stupid_ , and also, _I would've given you the world if you'd asked me back then, I would've grabbed your hand and taken you wherever you wanted to go,_. Fernando wants to say a lot of things, but he can't. Suddenly, as he imagines his own voice speaking those words, all he hears is a bad person, a spoiled brat who never knew hardship in his days and thinks he is fit to judge other people's bad decisions. Not that Fernando ever had luxury in his life; he just never knew life the way Daniel did. Not until they got together, anyway. At which point he started wondering what the hell he was doing, signing up for crap that wasn't even his.

"You were never talentless. You were desperate," he offers, after a while, softly. "I wasn't thinking that you deserve to be running for your life. I don't think anybody deserves that."

"Thank you."

"But I don't think I deserve that either," Fernando adds. "The only reason I even got involved with all that was because of you. I had to leave my job and move states to get away from it, change my entire life, start from scratch in Chicago. You can't just come knocking on my door again."

Daniel looks down at his own hands, resting on his lap, tattooed fingers intertwined together. "I know," he says. "But I don't know what else to do. I have two dollars in my pocket right now. I can't even buy a freaking Big Mac. If you send me out, I'll have to sleep on the street."

Fernando shakes his head. "No."

"Fernando... If you let me stay -"

"Daniel," he admonishes.

"Fernando, I promise you. It's just for a little while. I need to get a job. I have _nothing_ ," Daniel pleads.

"I'm not a social worker. You can't just show up when things go bad and expect me to do something for you. I have... Things. A life. It's not that simple."

"I'm not saying we should - that's not what I'm suggesting. I know you have your life and you moved on and that's ok. I won't interfere. But I need your help. _Please_. Just until I can get a job and pay the rent somewhere."

It's still the same person. That's probably the worst part. The hardest part. That Daniel, sitting in front of him, is still the same boy Fernando met at a bar in Brooklyn all those years ago. He's got different eyes - older, pained, running out of time to save himself -, different colors covering his arms and fingers. But the green in his irises is still the exact same shade as they were the night they kissed for the first time; the freckles on his face are the same as they were when Fernando decided to count them with his tongue; his smile is just as childish and sweet as it had always been. Daniel was sweet. When he was sober, anyway. When he was trying to woo. He was the sweetest person Fernando had ever known, and he feels a bit of a pang somewhere for remembering that so well all of a sudden. 

Daniel is still the same person he'd fallen madly in love with, and the same person who'd ruined everything that was good about his life.

So, what matters the most now? Fernando wants to be a good person and he wants to do the right thing. But sending Daniel out to sleep on the streets - he's certain there's a very huge measure of exaggeration there, but the truth is probably not that far off - is not being _good_. And yet, accepting him back into his life, even if temporarily, feels like such a huge betrayal. To himself, most of all. After everything he's conquered, after all he's been through. What matters most - being good or being righteous?

"I told you I don't want to be responsible for you," he repeats for what is like the millionth time, more to himself than to the other man.

"I'm not asking you to. It's just for a month. Just enough time for me to get back on my feet."

"God... I don't deserve this," Fernando mutters under his breath, hoping, perhaps for the first time in his life, that there really is a higher power ubiquitously watching over right now to listen to his silent prayer. 

"Please?" Daniel tries again, and something inside of Fernando gives up or gives in, it's hard to tell which. 

He exhales loudly, shoulders dropping in defeat. "Fine," he finally says. And that one tiny word is enough to make Daniel's face twist into such a huge smile that it looks like it will split him in two, a hundred little crinkles on the corner of his eyes. 

"Thank y-" he begins to say, but Fernando stops him before he can finish it.

"There are rules," he announces, as solemnly as he possibly can. Daniel drops the smile in a bad attempt at looking serious, but Fernando can still see the happiness in his eyes. It's both heartwarming and terrible. "You don't touch my things," he starts.

"Ok," Daniel acquiesces with a nod.

"You don't do drugs, you don't get drunk. If I so much as smell any of that shit on you, doesn't matter which one, you're out."

"Understood."

"Swear on your life, Daniel. I don't want to find even a little hint of drugs on you or anywhere near my apartment."

"I promise," he says, one palm out in the air in a solemn gesture.

"You don't bring anyone here. Not friends, not... Other people."

Daniel almost laughs at that one, but refrains from doing so, probably out of respect. "Of course not."

"You don't eavesdrop."

"I wasn't eavesdropping before, it was - You know what? Fine. I won't listen to your private conversations."

"Your place is the couch," Fernando says, pointing towards the place where he's sitting. It's not a very big couch, probably not very comfortable for a man of Daniel's size. Even he doesn't like that couch very much. It's still more than Daniel deserves, he reminds himself.

"Couch and I are going to be good friends."

"No, you're not. Because you only have one month. _One month_. That's all the time you'll get."

"One month," Daniel repeats. "It's more than enough."

"I really hope it is. Because after that, you're out, I don't care if you have a job or not."

"Deal."

They fall into a short patch of silence, not really able to move their eyes away from one another - Fernando unsure whether he has all the guarantees he needs from Daniel, unsure whether he made the right decision; Daniel trying really hard not to smile. Eventually, he's not able to hold back anymore, and his mouth simply curves upwards into a content grin. "Thank you, Nando," he says.

"Don't thank me yet," he says. _Don't make me regret this_ , he thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on a few new stories plus the one I'm yet to complete for a couple of months now, but I seem to have hit a snag. I can't move forward with any of the stories so I figured - maybe if I start uploading something new it will help?? Like, for motivation purposes or something. I don't know. I'm just trying to cut through this writer's block. 
> 
> It might also be a good way of knowing which of the new stories I should focus on at the moment, I guess. If you like what you just read, let me know. If you don't, let me know too. 
> 
> Also: I _know_ the Titanic thing is not entirely accurate. I understand there were several reasons why the ship went down, etc, etc. I've read books on the Titanic, it was kind of an obsession at a certain point in my life. I deliberately chose to ignore the other reasons and concentrate on just this one because it suited my purposes. Can you blame me??


End file.
